


Up Through the Ashes

by blu3pho3nix



Category: One Piece
Genre: Emotional, Hints of Thatch/Izou, M/M, Post-Marineford, Rebirth, Resurrection, Slight OOC Marco, Slight Zoro/Luffy, Some Spoilers, lots of flashbacks, lots of surprises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3078605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blu3pho3nix/pseuds/blu3pho3nix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was it coincidence that he met that man there with the hat or was it fate? He wasn't sure what to believe in; that he was in a different world seemed too preposterous. But then wasn't his desire, his desperate prayer, just as preposterous? "You can call it fate if you like," the dark haired woman said with a knowing smile. "But there is no such thing as coincidence. There is only the inevitable."</p>
<p>One man has gone far beyond what anybody ever gave him credit for and now Marco has a once in a lifetime opportunity. But will he seize the chance or will he question this reality and ultimately himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently obsessed with Marco x Ace and decided to try my hand at such a fanfiction. This will be my first Marco/Ace pairing and I'm actually really excited about it. However, this is not my first time writing so feel free to spout out whatever praises or criticisms you'd like; just make sure they aren't nonsensical.
> 
> Sadly I do not own One Piece or the characters; if I did Ace would not have died. Also, there will be mentions of Marco having a peculiar condition. Said condition is not from my head, that is from Five Days by Reiki-Piratical. If you've read it then okay, it's an awesome story and one of my favorites! If you haven't read it then don't worry it has no correlation to my story, I'm simply incorporating it into mine with some tweaks here and there. So bottom line is; I merely own the main plot.

If someone were to ask how he fell in love he couldn't answer, because truthfully he wasn't quite sure how himself. He could tell them when, where and with whom but how was still a mystery to even him. In all honesty he had never planned to fall in love, never wanted to fall in love. To him there were too many complicated variables that worked against his favor. Besides, all a man really needed was the wide open seas of freedom, adventure and his 'family' to share it all with. There should be no more room for anything else, or so he first thought.

None of them knew what they were getting themselves into, or what would later become of them. All they knew was that their Oyaji made a decision and it was final. Whether he himself knew what his decision would put his sons through was unknown but nobody questioned him. Instead they welcomed their newest member with open arms, even as the distrusting brat tried, unsuccessfully, to take their Oyaji's head. Each time he would fail and each time he would still still try again until after the hundredth time something changed. He had asked why.

“Why do you guys call him “Pop”...?”

Truthfully it had been the question they were all waiting for, because a son who doesn't understand his father can't even hope to be happy. And that's what they were, happy. Happy to be loved and accepted by someone strong and admirable and as one of the oldest members it was no surprise that he was the one to put things in a quicker motion.

“Because he calls us his “sons”.”

Whether the boy understood at least that much was an unasked question, because even if he didn't know now he would eventually. To the others, however, it was the simplest of explanations in the world.

“We're hated all around the world, yoi. But we're happy...words like these make us happy.”

Though the boy couldn't see him, having had his own face hidden in his lap, the happy son gave a truly genuine and happy smile. A smile that, for some unfathomable reason, he desperately wanted to see on the young man's face.

“Will you take Whitebeard's mark on your back?” were the last words that inevitably put everything in motion.

The young man, or boy as some still called him, took Whitebeard's mark upon his back and quickly rose to the title of Second Division Commander. Nobody argued about it and instead cheered and congratulated him. He was their brother who, once opened and relaxed, has a charisma that seems to draw others toward him. A charm that somehow had ensnared the most wildest of birds.

For a while things were wonderful and joyous, like a paradise out on the open seas. Nothing was out of place or amidst, it was as perfect as their lives would get.

Unfortunately, happiness does not always last forever and slowly but surely everything began to crumble and fall apart. Their paradise on open seas became a hell of nightmares that would no doubt threaten to tear them all apart.

In the end, however, it did more than simply tear them apart. The pain and anguish that was left to the living was almost too much to bear, alone without their father and youngest brother. But more than anyone's pain or sadness was the shattering of a bird's heart that no amount of flames or tears could ever mend. For in those last moments he lost more than a father and a brother, he lost his world. The pain and suffering none of them could foresee left a little brother catatonic, a family crushed and a special bird broken.

Little did they all know that the grand scheme of one man was only just beginning.


	2. The Ghost of You, My Sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that you should really pay attention to what you read because I plan on making this one of those stories where it jumps around a bit but everything connects. Or mostly everything anyways, some parts will just be added bonuses for you guys ;) Also, please tell me what you think of Marco; whether he’s too OC, not reminiscent enough of his Devil Fruit or whatever it is. Like I said before, this is my first One Piece fanfiction.

_" **I never thought you'd slip away**_

_**I guess I was just a little too late"**   
_

In the days following the events of Marineford the remaining Whitebeard Pirates watched as their father and one of his beloved sons were buried side by side on a hill of a nameless island somewhere in the New World. Thanks to Red-Haired Shanks they were allowed a proper burial where their loved ones could visit in peace. Despite him not being one of Whitebeard's sons it was still a bit of a comfort to see the other Yonko pay his respects.

While they had never really been allies there was no doubt that Shanks held great respect for Whitebeard and even cared enough about Ace to confront his captain said boy meeting Blackbeard. Although, in the end all Shanks could do was stop the war before it got even further out of hand.

For several days after the funeral Marco had forced himself to appear strong and stable for the rest of the crew even when he felt utterly dead inside. There was no surprise that, as First Division Commander, Marco took over as overall captain. In retrospect it was the most logical choice, the former commander not only being one of the oldest of the crew but also having been one of the closest to Whitebeard. He knew the strengths and weaknesses of the entire crew, knew each island marked as their territory, calculated their loot and distributed allowances all as the First Division Commander.

It took a few days more to fix the remaining ships and then re-establish a main ship since the original Moby Dick had been melted away by, the then Admiral, Akainu's magma. Even with Marco as captain they kept Whitebeard's mark as their own and continued sailing under his name.

After they had finally set sail almost three weeks later they immediately worked to defend what little territory they had left. Fishman Island, which was one of their foremost destinations, had already been claimed by Big Mom and while it didn't sit well with most it wasn't the worst that could have happened. Against much protest Marco left the island in the other Yonko's protection, reasoning that as they were now they couldn't hope to take down Big Mom. In addition it would also take most, if not all, their focus and power to protect their remaining territory.

As Marco predicted it did take almost all of their focus and power to defend seven islands. However, in the end they only managed to keep three islands under their father's name. Even then Marco had to make the tough decision of leaving three divisions to oversee an island each. When he finally made the wisest choices he left divisions six, nine and fifteen to each protect an island.

Based off their results of the months immediately following the war it was obvious that Whitebeard's crew had suffered greatly and were significantly weakened. Even before the war they were one commander short and now they were down two commanders as well as their Oyaji.

It's true they all felt the pain of losing a big chunk of their family, could feel the hole it left in their hearts, but they all knew that more than anyone else Marco carried the deepest wounds. Though nobody could see them they all knew they were there. In a place where wild blue flames could never reach; three scars remain forever etched into his soul.

Come two years later, scars still permanent reminders, Marco and the Whitebeard Pirates, who had been keeping a low profile, were immensely relieved to finally hear news of the Straw Hat Pirates. Not only had Luffy recovered and reunited with his crew but it quickly became apparent that they all grew much stronger in those two years apart. The fact that even after those two separated years Luffy's crew all returned together had the tension around Marco, which he hadn't realized was there, finally dissipating.

That night, using Luffy's return as an excuse, the Whitebeard Pirates celebrated with plenty of food, drinks and laughter to go around. In truth it was only their third celebration since the death of Edward Newgate; the first having been Marco's assuming role as captain though it hadn't been much of a celebration. The second one hadn't been much different but this time, this time they had a true reason to celebrate. Because Monkey D. Luffy, Ace's little brother and the idiotically courageous boy acknowledged by 'The Strongest Man in the World', was alive and finally in the New World.

Not long after news of the Straw Hat Pirates and the Heart Pirates forming an alliance reached them did Marco decide to pay another visit to the graves of his fallen loved ones. It had become something of a routine for him, visiting the grave site at least once a year. Most of the time it was around Ace's or Whitebeard's birthday but this year was an exception. This year he went early to bring news to Ace of his little brother who he constantly worried over even when he was poking fun at the younger pirate from miles away.

The soft breeze that came from the north gently tousled blond locks as Marco placed a barrel of sake between the graves, as if a large hand was ruffling his hair in appreciation. Marco simply smiled at each head stone as he took a seat in front of them, a few feet back with his legs crossed. He knew the others wanted to greet them too, and he would let them, but for now this was his peace.

“Hey Pops,” he started. “Hey Ace. Hope you and Thatch aren’t causing Oyaji too much grief.” With a tug of his heart Marco gave a light chuckle, a small smile on his lips.

Though it was a one sided joke the male could imagine the two notorious pranksters sharing similar pouts of false indignation as their Oyaji laughed with amusement that somehow held his overwhelming affection for the two mischief makers who were so obviously proud of such titles. Marco could practically hear the rumbling of the larger man’s laughter encompassing the lighter laughs of two younger males. As imagined as it all was it still gave another painful tug at his heart but he managed to continue.

“Luffy is back, yoi. And already causing trouble,” Marco said with a shake of his head, finding it almost ridiculous how much alike the two brothers were. “Seems he’s made an alliance with that Death Surgeon, Trafalgar Law.”

Honestly, Marco wasn’t sure what to make of the alliance. It wasn’t so much that he allied himself with someone as it was _who_ he allied himself with. Law was obviously the type to think of every possible action followed by the consequences, good or bad, and chose the one that would benefit him the most. Then again it probably wasn’t even a normal alliance considering Luffy was related to Ace who could be pretty innocent and or delusional sometimes. Marco wouldn’t be surprised if Luffy saw it in completely different meaning and so he only hoped things will turn out better than the several worse case scenarios.

For a while longer the former commander carried on his one sided conversation, telling how the crew –because for the life of him Marco could not call them “his crew” like a captain would– were holding up and how Haruta had managed coheres Izo into being a prankster’s accomplice though they were nothing like Ace and Thatch.

At some point Marco had started talking to Ace alone, imagining the young man’s usually grinning face marred with freckles across his cheeks bones. He remembered how the fire user would always complain about those freckles giving him a childish appearance, cursing the “damn useless freckles” until Marco would make a comment that suddenly  turned his frown into an embarrassed pout that only made him look that much more childish.

He didn’t ask the deceased pirate any questions, because he knew there would be no answer. Instead he simply told him things he used to normally tell him; how he would always be a trouble maker just like his little brother, how much of a glutton he was –again just like his little brother– and just simple nonsense. Surprisingly he even made a joke about their food supply actually lasting them until the next island, which almost never happened with Ace around.

To others it might have sounded as though he was talking poorly about Ace’s habits and personality but in reality it was how they normally spoke to each other. It wasn’t constant but from time to time they would throw good hearted insults back and forth until one, or both of them, gave in to the laughter. They weren’t the only ones either, they both did it with Thatch and Haruta did the same thing with both Vista and Izo. If someone asked the rest of the crew about it they would just say it was two, sometimes three, brothers joking around.

By the time Marco ran out of things to say the sun was already setting. He had spent almost the entire day sitting on the hill in front of their graves talking about anything and everything. Like always, though, he felt just a little lighter after, as if the built up stress of being captain of their rowdy bunch had been eased off his shoulders. That didn’t mean his heart was any less heavy but he did feel like he had a clearer head so with simple fair wells the captain descended down the hill.

When Marco returned to the ship he was glad to see everything was still intact and nobody seemed to have a guilty conscience about something the captain may or may not have noticed yet. For the rowdy crew had behaved themselves and so were promised a party the next night after the entire crew had a chance to visit the graves. Surprisingly the crew had gone to bed relatively early after dinner despite their obvious excitement. Or perhaps it was because of their excitement that they went to bed early.

“’Early to bed early to rise’ as the saying goes,” chuckled the blond man as he crossed to the side of the ship towards the island they were currently docked at.

Effortlessly he jumped on shore, landing with a graceful ease that came relatively natural to him. In part it came from the many years of fighting and honing his skills but more than that it was who he was. He was light and graceful with power that was befitting of the title of First Division Commander, and now captain. Over the years he had learned that not everything depended on power and strength alone and had worked to define the smaller skill points he lacked before. Now those skills were being put to use as he quietly left the ship.

While everyone was asleep, save for the two on watch duty, Marco decided to spend his sleepless night with Ace. Before the dark haired pirate would often knock on his bedroom door when the blond couldn’t sleep and would instead re-read one of the few books he owned. If or how he knew the higher commander was unable to sleep was something Marco never could figure out. On those nights, however, the two of them would share a few drinks and at some point Marco would pass out only to wake the next morning feeling fully refreshed but somehow still feeling as though something were lacking. Only months later did he finally realize what that something was. 

_Warmth._

The warmth of an extra body beside him, silently telling him he wasn’t alone. To feel the warmth that drives away bad memories and lucid nightmares. It was something he had lived without for so many years that now, without that siring warmth, he could hardly sleep and when he did; he dreamed. He dreamed of chasing the warmth, following it anywhere it went no matter the distance. Then it would disappear out of thin air but he would search for it no matter how long it took and when he finally found it; the warmth flickered wildly for a moment, as if calling to him, only to fade out in the end.

Like animals humans have instincts that drive them, some innocent and some not, but for Marco he held strong instincts of both, as was typical for Zoan type Devil Fruit users. Most he could live with, as he did for so many years already. He had long since mastered his mythical creature but in some cases even, after mastering their Devil Fruit, there are still certain instincts they cannot completely control. Even Marco was no different.

For Marco warmth was more than just a body, it was peace and energy. It was part of something that, no matter how hard he tried to resist, he would always return to. Against pride, against though, even against all bases of reason, he would search for it and he would always find a way to return . In a way that was exactly what he was doing as he found his way back to the hill, back to those distant memories of warmth.

As he reached the top of the hill to in front of Ace’s resting place with the light blanket he carried –a gift from the fire user— Marco found someone he knew did not come peacefully and was not always alone. Standing just behind Ace’s head stone, part of him blocked from view, was a large man that resembled a bear with oddly disproportionate legs. His spotted grey hat, which matched his pants, sported the same fuzzy round ears at the top and his black jacket bore the same target cross with paw prints lining the bottom. With a purple colored Bible in gloved hands there was no doubt who it really was; the original that became the model for those damn Pacifistas.

Bartholomew Kuma.

Reflexively Marco let the blanket slip from his hand to the ground as he slid one foot back in preparation to dodge, attack or defend. Part of him doubted the man would attack just yet if he hadn’t already done so when the pirate was walking up the hill. Then again he wasn’t really human anymore and therefore likely had no conscious thought process.

“Calm down,” spoke an unfamiliar voice as a dark figure slowly emerged from behind the large cyborg. “He’s not going to attack, I promise.”

“What makes you think I’m going to believe a Marine, yoi?” Marco asked in a mocking voice, a light smirk playing across his lips.

Despite being unable to full see his face, as the man finally stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight the pirate captain could tell that h was much younger than himself, most likely in his mid to early twenties. He wore a dark colored top hat that looked slightly worn but well cared far with what appeared to be a pair of goggles wrapped around it. Beneath the hat was short curly blond hair and while the hat hid the top of his face the toothy grin he gave showed he was missing just one of his pearly white teeth. Though there was a light chill in the breeze the young man seemed about as unaffected by it as Kuma did even with the lack of clothing.

Surprisingly he reminded Marco of Ace in a lot of ways, with his light blue cyan shorts held up by a belt with a sort of flower-design on the buckle and plain black boots. He wore no shirt beneath the dark blue jacket; sleeves rolled up just before his elbows, and instead had a cravat around his neck. More than anything he looked like a rich brat who hadn’t grown out of his rebellious stage yet.

Gripping the rim of his hat between his thumb and forefinger the younger blond gave a cocky grin that had Marco blinking then narrowing his pale blue eyes. “Oi, oi. Who said I was a Marine?”

For a moment the Devil Fruit user glared at him. That grin, cocky and teasing, was the same grin he so often saw on Ace’s face when the Second Division Commander found something ridiculously entertaining. That or when he was looking for a truly enjoyable fight. No matter which it was, with Ace involved it almost always turned out to be outrageous in one way or another.

“Then why would you be accompanied by one of the Government’s project guinea pigs?” Marco replied with a finger pointed lazily at the former stature of a human, his own posture slightly relaxed as he sensed no immediate threat though he was still alert.

Still with that grin stretched across his face, which was actually beginning to annoy the pirate, he released the grip on his hat. “Let’s just say I’m borrowing him for the moment.”

“And what business do you have here, yoi?”

“I came to pay Ace a visit and thought it was time I met you,” he said nonchalantly as he tilted his head just enough to show one blue-green eye. “Marco. 

* * *

 

_Orange and yellow bled into the horizon and reach up above the tall, strangely designed buildings to mix with the slowly darkening sky, hues of light purple splashed through the fiery colors. It was a magnificent sunset that had citizens stopping to enjoy the view for a moment before managing to tear their gaze from the painted picture to carry on with the rest of their evening. In front of the only old styled Japanese building, however, were two few people who paid no attention to the setting sun._

_“What do you mean you can’t grant my wish?!” demanded a young man in a black top hat, fists clenched in anger._

_“Because it goes against a wish I have already granted but has not yet been fulfilled,” spoke a calm feminine voice, long black hair cascading down the petite woman’s back passed her waist._

_She wore a long red dress that trailed behind her as the fabric hugged her so in such a close fit, with well-formed and tempting breasts cradled above a black cincher corset*, it left almost nothing to the imagination. A slit ran half way up her left thigh to expose more smooth creamy skin just as the fabric hung loosely around her shoulders before fanning out into butterfly sleeves lined with short white fills that also lined the neck line. Around her pale thin neck was a black chocker with a rose in the center, which matched the designs sown in black along the dress, and black chains connecting one end to the center and the other end to the left or right of the rose. In her hair was another rose that looked almost as if it were holding the two twisted loops of hair against the one side of her head while the rest of her hair hung freely around her shoulders and down her back._

_Distant red eyes stared unwavering into blue-green orbs filled with bubbling frustration. The young man had wished for something that was not yet time to fulfill. Though it would most likely be the same wish she could not grand it this young man._

_“What wish?” he all but demanded as well._

_“I’m afraid I cannot tell you that,” the woman said simply._

_The man was getting nowhere with the sly witch and it long since pushed past his point of patience. She told him that his wish was not impossible like he first thought but when he asked for it she denied him. No matter which way he asked for it she would deny him each time. Now she was even denying him a full explanation._

_“What the hell can you tell me?!” the blond practically yelled._

_Despite his intimidating posture, harsh glare and elevated voice the dark haired woman remained unfazed. Her cold red eyes remained locked with his fierce glare, unyielding to his overpowering emotions. Years had expressed to her the many different reactions of humans and so nothing seemed to phase that blank, observant face._

_“Only the one who truly loves fire can fulfill the wish.”_

_The man scuffed at her answer and folded his arms over his exposed chest. “I didn’t ask for a cryptic answer,” he told her, some of his anger slowly simmering down._

_The tall woman in front of him merely gave a small teasing smile as the sun further disappeared over the horizon. Soon the light of the sun would give way to the darkness of the night but neither seemed too concerned. Instead the man with the top hat continued to gaze at the one across from him, his mind thinking over all his possible options before he finally spoke._

_“Fine,” he said with a sigh of defeat, head bowed. However, when he raised his head a moment later there was a cunning grin stretched across his lips. “Then I want to be the one to pay the price.”_

_For once the accursed woman seemed at least mildly surprised, her red eyes widening ever so slightly with not a single trace of mockery. Silence stretched between the two, one of which appeared more confident about his new wish with just a hint of smugness at the others surprise. It was the first time that anyone had made a wish to pay the price of someone else’s wish. The fact that he did so without any hesitation, with no second thought and with such confidence actually had her of all people asking him a deep and curious question._

_“And why would you make such a wish?”_

_“Well Dragon-sama already told me about your business before Commander Ivankov sent me here with his Dimension Wink,” the young man began to explain, grin still firmly in place even as he rubbed a finger below his nose as if he accomplished something to be proud of._

_“Since your binding transactions are based on the laws of equivalent exchange a wish as big as my first would mean the price will have to be just as steep. Knowing that I can only assume you’ll take something any normal person would treasure more than anything: memories, a bond or love.”_

_With the initial surprise gone the female watched the man before her explain his logic and reasoning. The more he spoke the more her amusement of him grew. To think that such amusing people came from one place and almost all of them were charismatic men._

_“So knowing all of that you still choose to make it your wish?”_

_“Yup!” he declared with that same grin of unwavering confidence. “Quite honestly I don’t think I could live with myself if let someone sacrifice their love for such a bone-head.”_

**_Humans truly are the most mysterious creatures,_ ** _the witch thought before deciding she rather liked this young man._

_“Very well, you shall pay the first price,” she told him. As she was about to name said price, however, she was interrupted._

_“’First price’? What do you mean ‘first price’?”_

_“A price must also be paid to fulfill the first wish and only the lover of a fire can make it.”_

_Though the male appeared confused and rather irked he understood more in that one sentence than he did throughout the rest of their conversation. One soul person immediately jumped to his mind when he heard ‘the lover of fire’ and really, it should have been so obvious even with that cryptic response the witch gave before. The only thing he didn't understand was what price only said lover could pay, and what was even the first wish to begin with?_

_“For you,” the witch continued, seemingly unaware of the blonde’s silent realization. “Your payment shall be your relationship.”_

_The second that she said that last word he knew what she meant, what she really wanted from him. It was the one thing he treasured above everything and despite knowing it would come he couldn’t stop the dropping of his heart. After all, he was only human, with a heart that felt pain and lose just like any other._

_“So we’ll forget about each other?” he asked, part of him hoping for something just a little bit better but what he got instead was just that little bit worse._

_“No, both of your memories will remain with one difference. He will never remember you as his brother nor the oath you made with them. To him you will have been nothing more than a friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cincher corset: for those who don’t know it’s a corset that does not cover the bustline, and which concentrates specifically on reshaping the waist. 
> 
> I’m pretty sure you’ve all figured out who the two mystery characters are (for those who don’t I’m not going to say yet) but in order for the mystery guy to get to the mystery woman I decided to give Ivankov the ability to send someone across dimensions with a ‘Dimension’ Wink. Not the most creative name but oh well, I thought the idea was creative enough. Now just wait for my second creative idea coming up in the next chapter! 
> 
> Anyways, please leave plenty of reviews! The more productive reviews I get the quicker you all get your chapters!


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